Page 55 of The Contractor's Rose
Monson rolled his eyes. “Your ride’s here,” he said into the speaker, then flicked the button off. “She’s been entertaining everyone in the back. I hauled them in. Guess I forgot how much that one talks.”
“That was your first mistake,” I muttered.
Monson nodded toward the hallway. “I’ll go get Teagan. I tried to offer her breakfast when we placed our daily order at the cafe across the street, but she is in a mood. So. Good luck with that ride home.”
My stomach twisted. Because now it hit me—we were all riding together.
My daughter, who hated me. Her ex–best friend, who was just … Elodie. And the woman who’d been—and would be again, the second we were alone—calling me Daddy last night, who was exactly their age and currently stealingglances at me that made my thoughts anything but appropriate.
Goddammit.
I was stupid.
So fucking stupid.
A moment later, Elodie waltzed into the front office. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun. She was still in last night’s leather skirt, but now her top was covered by an oversized sweatshirt withBayridge Sheriff’s Dept.across the front. She was barefoot, heels in hand, but grinning like she owned the place.
“Rose!” she shouted, throwing her arms up. “Sweet, sweet friend of mine. I missed you. Jail isso boring. You can’t even DoorDash pizza when you need to sober up. It’s a travesty.”
Rose hugged her, laughing into her shoulder. “You weren’t even technically in jail.”
“Semantics. I was detained.”
I lifted a brow. “You were babysat by Monson with a bag of candy.”
Elodie waved me off. “Details.”
Then she eyed me up and down with a look I didn’t like. “So … how was your night?”
“Don’t,” I warned her quietly.
But she just smirked. “Oh, Iwill. Just not in front of your daughter, who’s probably?—”
The door swung open behind her, and everything in the room shifted.
Teagan walked in with the kind of energy that made the air feel colder. She looked fine. Not a single hair out of place. She wore jeans with so many rips in them that it made me wonder why anyone would pay for them, a band tee, and herleather jacket folded neatly over one arm. But her scowl? That could kill a man on sight.
Her eyes landed on Elodie first. Then Rose.
Her face twisted and lips curled.
“Well, well,” she said, her voice sharp and echoing against the station walls. “The entire town showed up.”
“Teagan,” I warned, my voice low and even.
But she didn’t stop. She was already locked in and pulling the pin of what I knew was going to be a grenade of her own pain to hurt others. “What’s Rose doing here, anyway? Supervising? Or just making sure everyone remembers she’s the town’s golden girl—a perfect friend, and your friend’s perfect daughter who’s always better than troublemaker Teagan?”
Elodie stepped between them like a goddamn bodyguard. “Don’t talk to her like that. She didn’t do anything to you.”
Teagan scoffed, narrowing her sharp tongue on Elodie now. “I’m not dumb. There’s more than some wet floors keeping them close these past few weeks. Last night proved it. Bumping into her and then my dad within a few steps from one another at a club, for Christ’s sake? You’re all just a bunch of liars.”
Her words hung in the air like smoke—acrid, clinging, dangerous.
My eyes flicked to Rose, just as hers found mine. Her face was pale, her jaw tight, but it was her brown eyes that hit me hardest—wide and glassy, filling with unshed tears she was trying her damndest not to let fall.
I wanted to go to her. I wanted to step in, say something, touch her—doanythingto make her feel safe again. But we both knew what that would do. One brush of my hand, one look too long, and Teagan would take the match she was holding and drop it right on top of everything we’d built.
Elodie’s brows knitted and she broke my train of thought. “What the fuck did I do?”
